


Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time

by kaibasetos



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 10:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6002824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaibasetos/pseuds/kaibasetos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jounouchi blinks, momentarily caught off-guard, and then narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Um, no thanks. I don’t need your help gettin’ girls, Otogi.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time

**Author's Note:**

> [[Valentine's Day Fic Bash 2016](http://kaibacorpking.tumblr.com/private/139289273480/tumblr_o2jex0gLDG1uy32l2)]
> 
> Brand new fic, get your brand new fic here! After delving deeper into Petshipping, I discovered I was madly, deeply in love with every subship contained therein, so... Here. Have some Snareshipping. Hell yes. I hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> Content warning for mentions of alcohol!

Jounouchi has been watching Otogi from across the room for far too long, he knows. He keeps telling himself he could look away any time he wants to, lets that reassurance repeat a mantra in his head, but the problem is that he doesn’t really want to.

Otogi is charming a gaggle of girls in his typical fashion. He keeps laughing brilliantly and running a hand through his hair, leaning back with his hip cocked out, lithe like a cat when he moves forward to drop a casual and well-timed caress on a shoulder or a cheek. Jounouchi’s fingers clench around the bottle he’s holding every time. He used to think the envy smoldering low in his stomach was because he wanted those girls, those _people_ , anyone Otogi gave that sort of affection to, until he pinpointed the common factor in that equation.

He knows better now. He wishes it was meant for them instead. It would be much easier to deal with.

The rhythm of the party’s music reverberates through the wall he’s leaning up against, the bass thudding a low, liquid beat in his ribcage. Lights flash and bodies writhe and everyone is yelling, singing out a youthful tribute to the night. It’s energizing, overwhelming. When Otogi looks over and catches his eye with a sly, knowing smile, he convinces himself the blistering tempo and the madness of the crowd is the reason his pulse starts to rush. It isn’t the first lie he’s managed to make himself believe tonight.

Otogi starts over to him and he immediately averts his eyes, taking a gulp of his drink and grimacing at the way it burns on his tongue. This shit is disgusting, but at least it gives him something to occupy himself with.

“Jounouchi, so glad you could make it,” Otogi greets him, standing too close, encroaching on his personal space in a way that feels warm and electrifying. Jounouchi can see the sheen of sweat and glitter on his collarbones, bared by his v-neck, a shimmering remainder of dancing with too many people who weren’t Jounouchi. He reluctantly meets Otogi’s eyes, trying not to let an early, jealous flush creep its way onto his cheeks. “Enjoying yourself?”

“‘Course I am, it’s a great party,” Jounouchi says with a crooked smile that he hopes reads as easy rather than forced. “They always are.”

“I’m glad you can recognize talent when you see it,” Otogi returns with a playful sort of confidence, absently brushing his bangs out of his eyes, and goddamnit, why is that so irritatingly attractive? Jounouchi should be better than to fall for that one. He’s seen it used a thousand times, but it still makes his stomach turn pleasantly. “But I’ve noticed you’re being quite the wallflower tonight. What’s got your attention?”

The tone of their conversation changes immediately. Jounouchi isn’t a fool. He can hear the clever sharpness in Otogi’s voice, the cunning, like he already knows the answer before he even asks the question -- and, always devastatingly intuitive especially where attraction is involved, he probably does. Jounouchi weighs his options for a minute, the task a bit cloudier with intoxication involved, but he finally decides that now isn’t the best time to break his streak of falsehoods. He’s setting a personal record. Besides, they’ve been playing this game for a while now anyway. “What’re you talkin’ about? Nothing’s got my attention.”

“Bullshit.” Otogi speaks over the end of his sentence as if he were just _waiting_ for Jounouchi to lie about it, a self-satisfied look on his face that instantly makes Jounouchi want to kiss him. He twirls a loose strand of hair around his finger, his shirt riding up to show off just enough skin to be enticing. He’s a fucking professional at this, this teasing scheme, and it’s excruciatingly unfair. Jounouchi takes another shaky sip of his drink to have something to do with his hands other than touch things he shouldn’t. “I’ve seen you staring at me, Jounouchi.”

“I’m not starin’ at you,” Jounouchi insists too quickly and too loudly, his voice clumsy with alcohol. He tries to backpedal. “I mean, you wish. It’s-- I’m tryin’ to figure out if I know one of those girls over there.”

“Oh?” Otogi raises his eyebrows, looking positively delighted by this information, and Jounouchi immediately regrets saying anything. “Which one? Maybe I could put in a good word for you.”

Jounouchi blinks, momentarily caught off-guard, and then narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Um, no thanks. I don’t need your help gettin’ girls, Otogi.”

Otogi gives him a look that feels too keen and too observant, licking and then biting his lower lip. Jounouchi’s eyes catch on the black piercing in his tongue, the one he always tries not to stare at, the one he always tries not to let his imagination run wild with. His mind buzzes with instant, fiercely explicit daydreams, and he hopes Otogi can’t read it on his face. Judging by the smirk he’s giving him, though, the odds aren’t exactly in his favor.

“Riiight. Because there’s someone else you’re interested in anyway, isn’t there?” Otogi lays the flirtatious tone on thick as he says it, leaning towards him almost imperceptibly, his eyes demure. Jounouchi feels a pressured tension build in his spine, a heat in his veins. His heart thumps harder, almost in counterpoint to the thrum of the music. “Someone who is very much _not_ a girl?”

“That’s none of your fuckin’ business,” Jounouchi says defensively, forcing himself to make eye contact. It’s a poor decision. That damn beautiful green. Jesus Christ, he’s going to die.

Otogi doesn’t look put-off by this in the least, either. In fact, if possible, he looks even more mischievous. Jounouchi is definitely going to die.  “If you say so,” he offers in the same tone, a little dark and seductive around the edges. He rolls his tongue and catches his piercing between his teeth briefly, no doubt watching the way Jounouchi’s eyes immediately flick down to it, and then he grins. “But I think it’s _definitely_ my business.”

Jounouchi tries not to think about kissing him, about touching him, about anything that involves messy bedsheets and long black hair in his hands and the way Otogi’s sultry voice would sound around a moan of his name. He does a very poor job of it. He asks a dangerous question before he even has time to fully process that’s what he’s doing, his voice heavy and almost slurred. “Why’s that?”

Otogi takes a step towards him and Jounouchi reflexively tries to move back to keep the distance between them, finding himself abruptly pinned against the wall. Fuck. Otogi leans in, his hand coming to rest on Jounouchi’s shoulder, his fingers gliding along the fabric of Jounouchi’s shirt, his hair falling in waves, his mouth right next to Jounouchi’s ear. “Because you want me, Jounouchi. It’s just a matter of time before you let yourself admit it.”

He says it something like a purr and Jounouchi feels it slink along the edges of his skin, revels in the way it heats him up and blindsides him with desire. He lets his head fall back against the wall, and if Otogi sees this as a deliberate invitation to pursue something more forthright, he certainly doesn’t take it. Instead, he does the opposite -- he moves away, a glimmer of mirth in his eyes, always the expert at tantalizing and remaining just out of reach. Jounouchi has never wanted to ruin someone so badly in his goddamn life. He feels it course through him, strong and lustful.

“If you need me, you know where I’ll be,” Otogi tells him as if he’s sharing a secret, and with a wink and a smirk he’s off into the crowd again, too quick for Jounouchi’s hazy and hungry mind to keep up with. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Jounouchi _hates_ it.

It takes him a solid three minutes to move again, to stop thinking endlessly about Otogi’s touch too gentle and his lips too close and his voice too honeyed and sleek.

When he does finally pry himself away from the wall, it’s only to set a course straight for Otogi.

Damn if he’s not going to finish what he started.

 


End file.
